Many a Weary Foot
by keeptheotherone
Summary: Eleven couples, eleven drabbles, eleven New Year's Eves. First place in the Happy New Year Competition hosted by Addicted-To-Sugar-Quills.
1. Ten: Percy and Audrey

A/N:** Written for** the Happy New Year Competition by Addicted-To-Sugar-Quills. Eleven couples, eleven drabbles, prompts "10, 9, 8" etc. and "Happy New Year." In no particular order, my pairings are Harry/Ginny, Neville/Hannah, Ron/Hermione, Teddy/Victoire, Rose/Scorpius, George/Angelina, Bill/Fleur, Luna/Rolf, Lucy/Lorcan, Draco/Astoria, and Percy/Audrey. Thanks to Addicted-To-Sugar-Quills for hosting, and especially for the generous definition of "drabble" (100-1000 words).

The** title** comes from the poem "Auld Lang Syne" by Robert Burns. From the third verse, translated into modern English: _We two have run about the slopes/ And picked the daises fine/ But we've wandered many a weary foot/ Since auld lang syne._

**Disclaimer**: Neither the characters from _Harry Potter_ nor the Burns poem nor the tradition of counting down to midnight are mine. The rest, pretty much.

**Ten, nine, eight**, and **two** are written, so I'm going to do something I've never done before and update daily. Per the rules, I've given the story a teen rating because of a couple of chapters (including this one), but most will probably be K-K+. **Pay attention to the dates** to avoid being confused; some of them will take place around the same time, but not all. "Ten" is a **spin-off** of the piece I wrote for the Christmas Prompt Competition entitled **"The Weasley Christmas Song List."** Enjoy!

* * *

**Ten**

_December 31, 2000 10 p.m._

Percy rolled onto his back and sighed. ″The best New Year's Eve ever, full stop.″

Audrey laughed breathlessly. ″I certainly hope not.″

Percy pulled her against him, straightening the covers. ″It's a sight better than the last few years.″

She curled against his chest and said nothing. New Year's Eve 1997 had been wartime, and no one had known how much of the new year they would live to see. 1998 had been the first Christmas after Percy's brother Fred died, and she reckoned 1999 hadn't been shining with possibility, either. Not like this year. This wonderful new year shining with possibility, hope, and love. Love! She was in love with Percy Weasley, and as far as Audrey Cooper was concerned, all she needed for a happy New Year was knowing he loved her back. She tipped her face up for a kiss. Although Percy had a point. . . .

Ten minutes passed after the kiss ended before Audrey worked up the courage to ask. Percy's family was always a touchy subject. Sometimes it made him angry, sometimes it made him sad, sometimes it made him shut down. She only learned about Fred's existence and death on Christmas Eve, when Mrs. Weasley had showed Audrey childhood photos of Percy and all his siblings. She still didn't know what happened; all Mrs. Weasley had said was Fred had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. Percy had refused to talk about it and all but forbade her from asking again.

″What did you tell your brothers?″

″About what?″

″Why we weren't coming tonight.″

″Oh. I said you had to work.″

Audrey sat up on one elbow, ignoring Percy's wince when it jabbed him in the ribs. ″Percy! I'm a teacher. Teachers don't work on holidays! What am I supposed to be working on at ten o'clock at night?″

Percy's expression was blank, brow smooth, eyes closed. ″Lesson plans?″

She smacked his bare chest, rather harder than she intended, but at least he was looking at her. ″Percy! Every member of your family will think we're spending the evening in bed!″

He pushed her tangled hair back and smiled up at her. ″Nah, that's what they thought last weekend. This weekend, they _know_ we're spending the evening in bed.″

Audrey gaped. Percy didn't want her to know he'd had a fifth brother, but he didn't care if his whole family— all ten of them, counting significant others— knew about their love life? Wasn't it enough that she'd had to sit through that horrible meeting when his youngest brother's girlfriend had assigned everyone a Christmas carol as a cue to slip upstairs for a private celebration? When everyone had stared at her and Percy, speculating if they were sleeping together yet? Made more horrible by the (probably obvious) fact that they weren't? Which she wasn't sorry about, not at all, but . . . well, it was embarrassing when half the people in the room were four or five years younger than you.

She collapsed on her back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. ″I can't believe you told them. . . .″

Percy faced her, propping his head in one hand. ″I didn't tell them, you did. Merlin, the expression on George's face. . . ."

Audrey threw up her hands. ″What was I supposed to do? Hermione and her bloody list!″

Percy laughed and kissed her. ″You were brilliant. But I couldn't let you show me up in front of all my brothers. I'd have heard about it for the next ten years.″


	2. Nine: George and Angelina

**Nine**

_January 1, 2001 4:09 a.m._

Angelina Johnson stared at the glowing numbers of her _Tempus_ charm. Nine. That's how many times she had changed clothes tonight. Nine times. First in flashy red dress robes, in case George wanted to go out. Then black lingerie instead of red, because he had seen the red ones. When it became late enough that Angelina didn't want to go anywhere except maybe down the street to the Leaky Cauldron, she changed into work robes. But that looked like she hadn't bothered to change at all, so she put on jeans and a cashmere jumper. Then the purple bra and knickers, because they were a Christmas gift and she hadn't worn them yet, and there wasn't anything special about jeans and a jumper. Then a cotton bra and bikinis, because the purple lace was itchy. Then a silk chemise, because George would be here any minute. Then she transfigured her dressing robe to match, because George wasn't here yet and she was freezing. And finally, here she lay in flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks, because she had been stood up on New Year's Eve.

She had thought this year would be different. Two years ago, the first holidays after Fred died, George had walked out of his parents' house on Christmas Eve and disappeared for over a week. Last year, he'd merely drunk himself into a stupor. But this year— this year they were together. Sort of. At least, she thought so. No one else knew yet. There had been an, er, incident, while they were stocking inventory in August for the pre- Hogwarts rush, and one thing led to another, and. . . .

Angelina swiped the tears before they could run into her ears. Nine New Years in a row she'd fancied George Weasley, and she still hadn't been kissed at midnight.

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a/n: Yes, I know, Angelina went to the Yule Ball with Fred, but that doesn't mean she fancied him, now does it?


	3. Eight: Ron and Hermione

**Eight**

_December 31, 1995 11:48 p.m._

″Ron, how many marshmallows do you want?″ I raised my voice to be heard over Grimmauld Place's crowded kitchen. I needn't have bothered; Ron's ears picked up anything to do with food.

″Eight!″

An Order of the Phoenix meeting had broken up about thirty minutes ago, and most of the members were staying to ring in the New Year. Except for Sirius, who had gone upstairs and not returned. Mrs. Weasley called it ″fits of the sullens.″ I called it ″just plain rude.″ Remus and Bill had raided the Blacks' liquor cabinet, but Mrs. Weasley insisted on hot chocolate for us students. Fred and George were protesting vociferously that they were of age, and Bill and Charlie were weighing in. If Mrs. Weasley didn't allow the twins to have a drink in front of her, Bill and Charlie were going to do it behind her back.

″Eight marshmallows won't fit, Ron. The cup will run over.″

″Put the marshmallows in first and then pour the hot chocolate. You're supposed to be the brilliant one.″ His voice went from loud and far away to gentle and close in a heartbeat and I jumped.

Many more than eight marshmallows skittered across the floor. I rushed after them, thankful for the thick hair that hid my face. I was leaving it down more and more this year. It never stayed pinned, anyway, and it was a convenient curtain to hide behind when I blushed at inconvenient times. Like now. Following the white trail, I was not watching where I was going and ended up at the feet of Charlie Weasley.

″Hello, Hermione.″

Charlie's voice could make the simplest greeting sound suggestive and I blushed harder. I knew not to take him seriously. I was sixteen and plain, and he was twenty- three and handsome. I didn't see him often, but Charlie always flirted with me; he flirted with everyone. The first time he visited Order Headquarters, just days after I arrived at Grimmauld Place last summer, I thought he and Tonks were an item. Then I saw him flirting with Emmeline Vance, and Hestia Jones, and— I'm not kidding— Professor McGonagall. I knew not to take it seriously, but I didn't know how to take it gracefully. Especially not in front of Ron.

″Here.″ Ron's voice was irritable as he shoved a bin between us. ″For the marshmallows,″ he added, when I just stared at it.

″Oh! Of course. Thank you, Ron.″ I sounded horribly formal. Charlie smirked. I hurried back to the stove and the remaining marshmallows. ″Eight, right?″

″Yeah.″ Ron was standing behind me, looking over my shoulder. I was sure it was the lure of chocolate and not the perfume he'd given me, which I'd dabbed behind my ears.

I counted carefully, wondering if I was brave enough to kiss Ron at midnight. I had done it last month, before the Quidditch match. But his family was here, and Fred and George would be sure to take the mickey. Probably Charlie and Bill too. My hands were shaking. Was that seven or eight?

″One more.″

I added another marshmallow, stuffing it down with my finger. ″You're hardly going to have any chocolate at all.″

″Thirty seconds! Drinks, everyone,″ Professor Lupin called.

I poured hot chocolate over Ron's mug of marshmallows, which began melting instantly, and filled my own mug. No, I couldn't kiss him here. Maybe if we were alone— ohhh, to be alone with Ron on New Year's Eve. . . .

Ron clinked his mug with mine. ″Cheers.″

I had missed the countdown and the opportunity. But Ron was smiling at me, that gorgeous unrestrained smile, and I couldn't be disappointed. 1996 was going to be our year. I just knew it.

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a/n: *sigh* Poor Hermione. It's probably a good thing she doesn't know what's coming up for her and Ron that year, don't you think?


	4. Seven: Teddy and Victoire

**Seven**

_December 31, 2015 7:00 p.m._

Teddy Lupin surveyed the children running round Bill and Fleur Weasley's sitting room and turned to his girlfriend.

″Victoire, when you invited me over for New Year's, this wasn't what I had in mind.″

″Me, neither.″ Victoire plucked a toy sword out of Albus's hand and stretched to slide it on top of the bookcase, out of reach.

″How many of them are here, anyway?″ He kept losing count; too many gingers and too much movement.

″Seven.″

″_Seven!_″

″Roxie, you know the rules. Take that drink back into the kitchen.″ Victoire replaced the sofa cushions and sighed. ″Everyone who's too young for Hogwarts. James talked Uncle George into taking him too, since he turned eleven last month.″

″Where?″

″Muggle London, to ride the Eye and see the fireworks.″

″And you didn't want to go?″ Teddy sat down. From the sound of things, this might be his only chance all evening.

″I had plans with you. Fred Weasley, touch that and die!″

Fred pulled his hand away from the glass display case that contained Bill's treasures from Egypt. ″I was just looking.″

″Look from over there.″ Victoire pointed to the opposite side of the room.

″So, how did we end up babysitting for this lot?″

″Dad volunteered us.″

″I told you he doesn't like me!″

″Daddy likes you fine. It's only my boyfriend he has a problem with.″

″Victoire, I'm your boyfriend.″

″Are you two going to spend the evening kissing?″ Rose looked from her cousin to Teddy and back again.

″That's none of your business,″ Victoire said, blushing slightly.

″I'm only asking because Mum said couples like to kiss on New Year's, and Teddy said—″

″Oh, Rose, go read a book!″

Undeterred by Victoire's annoyance, Rose's freckled face brightened. ″Can I get one from your room?″

″All right. But don't bother anything else.″

″Your dad likes me, but not your boyfriend? How do you work that one out?″

Victoire stepped aside as Hugo and Lucy ran by. ″He wouldn't like my boyfriend no matter who it was. Daddy's always liked you, he just doesn't want to admit it now we're going out. Give him some time. He'll come round.″

Teddy ducked as a stuffed lion soared over his head. A wailing Lily rounded the side table, scooped her lion from the edge of the hearth, and leapt onto his lap, throwing her arms behind his neck and begging for rescue.

″I'm not sure I'm going to live that long,″ Teddy said.

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a/n: In case you're wondering, Teddy is seventeen; Victoire is fifteen; Rose is ten; Albus, Lucy, and Fred are nine; Hugo and Lily are seven; and Roxanne is six.


	5. Six: Lucy and Lorcan

**Six**

_December 31, 2023 11:06 p.m._

Lucy Weasley sat on the worktop in her grandmother's kitchen and watched as Lorcan Scamander loaded his plate with various goodies. While they had known each other all their lives thanks to the friendship between his mother and her aunt Ginny, uncle Harry, uncle Ron, and aunt Hermione, Lucy and Lorcan hadn't become friends until their first night at Hogwarts, when they were both sorted into Ravenclaw. Lucy had lots of cousins at Hogwarts, but most of them were in Gryffindor.

She could use a little Gryffindor courage right now. She hadn't told anyone, but her New Year's resolution was to kiss Lorcan. Well, her actual resolution was to become his girlfriend, but kissing seemed a good place to start. She had considered and rejected a variety of strategies, everything from telling him she fancied him like mad to announcing their new relationship upon her return to Hogwarts and waiting for the news to get back to Lorcan.

″Want a bite?″ Lorcan offered her a jam tart.

Lucy reached for it, but he pulled his hand away from hers, then held the tart right in front of her mouth.

″Go on, take a bite.″ His voice sounded different, husky and— nervous?

She raised her gaze from the tart to Lorcan's eyes. They were large and silver- gray, but not as protuberant as his mum's. Lucy thought they were beautiful, and right now they were watching her intently. Lorcan had been looking at her like this off and on all term, usually when he thought she wasn't looking. He'd never kept looking after she caught him staring, though. He tapped her mouth with the tart. She took a bite without looking away, but he turned to lean against the counter and devoured half the tart in one go.

Mouth dry, Lucy had a hard time swallowing the pastry and cast around for something to fill the silence. ″Did you know this is the sixth New Year's Eve we've spent together?″

″Is it?″

Lucy nodded, too eagerly. ″Every one since first year.″

″Well, that's appropriate.″ Lorcan set his plate down and licked a bit of raspberry off his thumb.

″Why is that appropriate?″ She swallowed again, wishing for a drink.

″The number six is ruled by the planet Venus,″ he said. ″She's the goddess—″

″Of love and beauty,″ Lucy whispered.

He was watching her intently again and he was close. So very close. She closed her eyes, lifted her face, and Lorcan kissed her. A brushing of his lips across hers, gentle but with enough pressure she knew it was real. Lucy opened her eyes. Lorcan looked terrified.

″Is that okay? I mean, I— er— uh, I'm sorry—″

Lucy laid one finger on his mouth. ″I was going to do that at midnight.″

His eyes lit up, and he brushed her hair over her shoulder. ″You were?″

She nodded. ″I've been working up the courage for hours. Days, really.″

Lorcan laughed. ″I've wanted to kiss you for forever. Six months, at least.″

Lucy's jaw dropped. ″What happened six months ago?″

His cheeks reddened, and he fidgeted with her hair. ″Dad and I ran into you and your family in Diagon Alley, remember? You were wearing this dress. . . .″

She laughed. ″I didn't think you noticed.″

″Oh, I definitely noticed.″ He kissed her again, then jerked back at a loud _bang_ from the sitting room, followed by a gale of laughter. ″Let's get out of here.″

″I'll get my coat.″


	6. Five: Bill and Fleur

**Five**

_January 1, 2000 12:05 a.m._

I finally broke our kiss and smiled at my wife. ″Happy New Year, Fleur.″

She was wearing a dreamy smile and not much else, curled as we were under the covers of our bed. The windows were open and the sound of the sea played in the background. ″ 'appy New Year, Bill.″

She laid her head on my shoulder, and I reached down to stroke the curve of her belly. She was five months pregnant, and I was fascinated by her constantly changing body. Breathtakingly beautiful, Fleur was tall (it gave me a crick in my neck to rest my chin on her head, even though I was six foot three) and slim (yes, even now; at least from behind), but no one would have called her curvy. Don't get me wrong, you'd never mistake her for a boy, but she didn't have the voluptuous build so many wizards drooled over. I didn't mind; like I said, she was beautiful and feminine. But watching the woman you love actually _grow_ curves is bloody brilliant. Especially once she stops puking every time she moves.

″Oh, she eez doing eet again.″

Fleur had first felt the baby move more than a week ago, and I was jealous. When I mentioned it to Dad, he said it would be a month or more before the baby was big enough for me to feel her movements, but I kept hoping.

″Where?″

Fleur moved my hand to the front of her abdomen, but I couldn't feel a thing.

″You still think it's a girl?″ I said.

″Mm-hmm. Maman said she was dea'zly ill wiz both me and Gabrielle.″

I resumed my exploration of her body, tracing the curves from waist to hip to thigh and back again.

″Do you mind? If eet eez a girl?″

″I think a daughter would be lovely. Her mum's looks and my brains.″ I grinned in the darkness, certain Fleur would take offense.

She raised herself up, hair trailing across my chest. ″Zere eez no'zing— no_thing _wrong with my brains. Or your looks,″ she added.

Merlin, I loved this woman. It was a special witch who would marry someone mauled by a werewolf. And I knew she meant what she said. I let my hand slide over her backside, and she leaned down, and we kissed for long minutes.

″How many, do you think?″ The room was getting uncomfortably cold with the continuous winter sea breeze, but I didn't want to move, just enjoying holding my wife, the scent of her hair, her leg thrown over mine.

″Five eez a good number.″

I couldn't hide my surprise. ″You want five kids?″

Fleur laughed her tinkling, bell- like laugh. ″No, silly. A family of five. Three kids plus us.″

″That sounds wonderful.″ It was wonderful, lying here on the first day of a new year, dreaming of our life together. ″Five it is.″


	7. Four: Draco and Astoria

**Four**

_December 31, 2003 7:44 p.m._

Four. That's how many stupid New Year's Eve parties my girlfriend is dragging me to tonight. Four! I protested, I wheedled, I argued, I sulked, and finally, because Astoria said she was going with or without me, I surrendered. As dreadful as four parties in one night is going to be, spending New Year's Eve alone when I have a girlfriend would be worse and she knows it. So, now I'm whining.

″Why do we have to go at eight? No one actually arrives when the party starts.″

″Because we have four parties to go to, Draco, and if we're going to make it to Greg's club by midnight, we have to start early. Change your tie.″

″This is my fourth one!″

″Then pick something decent this time. You have perfectly good fashion sense; use it.″

I turned back to my wardrobe, grumbling loudly enough for her to hear me but quietly enough that she couldn't understand. I whipped off the tie, dropped it on top of the other rejects (which were, admittedly, all wrong for this style of dress robes), and looked for the tie least likely to pass inspection. If I could stall long enough, maybe we could whittle the list of parties down to three.

″We're leaving in five minutes no matter what you're wearing. If you look like a prat, I'll tell everyone I let you dress yourself.″

I scowled. ″That makes me sound like a toddler!″

″You're acting like one.″

I had no comeback for that, so I returned to the original subject. ″I still don't understand why we have to go to all four parties.″

″Because you wouldn't answer me about who you wanted to offend: my mother, your mother, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or your best friend.″

″Yes, I did. I said we shouldn't go to any of them, and then no one could be offended we chose someone else's event over theirs.″ A stroke of brilliance, if I do say so myself.

Astoria remained unimpressed, but she left her vanity and approached under the pretense of straightening my tie, which was, of course, already perfect. She pulled me down— not far, since she was in heels— and stopped with her mouth just under mine. ″Relax, Draco, I'll owe you four times over.″

Damn, midnight was still four hours away.


	8. Three: Harry and Ginny

**Three**

_January 1, 2004 12:33 a.m._

Ginny Potter rushed past the welcome witch in the lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital and sprinted up the stairs. Unfortunately, she knew exactly where she was going; this was the third time Harry had been admitted to the Auror Wing.

She turned left out of the stairwell, raced along a corridor, hung a right at the mediwitch's station, ignored their reprimands to slow down, and stopped at the third door past the lifts. _Fourth Floor: Spell Damage: Auror Wing_. She paused for a deep breath. The last time, she had been so frantic the door wouldn't open for her, and she had wasted ten minutes arguing with it. She knocked three times.

″State your name and the name of the patient,″ the door said.

″Ginny Potter. I'm here to see my husband, Auror Harry Potter.″

″One moment, please.″

Ginny huffed in frustration, but the door remained solidly closed, and there was no handle. Ron's Patronus had said to ″come quick,″ and this stupid hunk of wood was separating her from Harry. Knowing he had to work, she had agreed to babysit her nieces Victoire and Dominique, and Ginny had had to take time to Floo Hermione and wait for her arrival before she could Disapparate from Shell Cottage. She looked down, considering giving the door a swift kick, and realized she was still wearing her bedroom slippers.

The door swung open. ″Bed three, Mrs. Potter.″

Yes, yes, she _knew_ that. Your husband's personal hospital bed was not the kind of thing a witch forgot.

There were three wards and three mediwitch stations in the Auror Wing, so no patient was more than a few steps from a caregiver. Through the glass wall of Harry's room, she could see a mediwitch, a Healer, and her brother Ron gathered around her husband. Ginny stepped through the open doorway and approached the bed.

″How is he?″

Ron turned round. ″Dopey.″ He gathered her into a hug. ″Sorry about the Patronus. I was—″

″Scared.″

″Yeah. Bloody git wouldn't wake up.″

″What happened?″ Harry looked like he was sleeping, and though the Healer and mediwitch were talking quietly on the other side of the bed, neither looked worried.

Ron grimaced. ″We broke up a potioneer's meeting that we suspected was a cover for non- tradeable goods. We've been trying to track a series of poisonings. One of the suspects Confunded him from behind, then cast an Imperius Curse. Pretty brilliant, actually, 'cause Harry never would have been susceptible otherwise. The bloke had him firing off spells everywhere, and you know how powerful Harry is. We had to Stun him. Harry took three to the chest.″

Ginny paled, remembering Professor McGonagall's attack by Umbridge.

″This isn't like McGonagall,″ Ron said. ″Harry's half a century younger. Here, talk to him.″ He guided Ginny towards the head of the bed. ″I bet he'll wake up again for you.″

Ginny took Harry's hand in hers and bent close. ″Harry? Harry, it's Ginny. Can you open your eyes for me, love?″

Harry squeezed her hand, his lashes fluttered, and he stirred. Ginny smiled into glassy, unfocused, emerald- green eyes and knew, even before he spoke, that he was indeed ″dopey.″

″Ginny. Ginny- Gin- Gin,″ Harry chanted. His smile was lopsided. ″Love you. Love, love, love. Kiss?″

Ginny laughed. Harry was going to be mortified when he truly woke up. If he didn't remember this, Ron would be delighted to remind him.

″Kiss, kiss, kiss. Ginny, Ginny, Ginny.″ He seemed compelled to speak in threes.

″Yes, Harry, it's Ginny.″ She kissed him lightly, still laughing.

He grabbed her hair, hanging in front of his face. ″Ginny.″ His eyes were slightly more focused. ″Love you. Always, always, always.″

She swallowed the lump in her throat and kissed their joined hands. ″I love you too, Harry. But you should hush, love.″

″Love, love, love. Ginny, Ginny, Ginny.″ He sighed happily. ″Almost made it.″

Ginny squeezed his hand tighter. ″You did make it, Harry. You're going to be fine.″

″ 'M in St. Mungo's. Mungo, Mungo, Mungo.″ Even the Healer was laughing now.

″I know, Harry. You're in St. Mungo's, and they're taking very good care of you.″

His eyes narrowed, crossed, then focused on hers. ″New Year's.″

″Yes, it's— well, now it's very early on New Year's Day.″

″Almost— made it.″ His eyes slid closed, then opened wide, then closed halfway again. ″Whole— year. . . .″ He sighed again.

Ginny watched as his breathing evened into the rhythm of sleep. Yes, one whole year without an injured Harry would have been lovely. Three visits to the Auror Wing was more than enough.

* * *

a/n: Ah, my favorite couple :) I envisioned the Auror Wing like an ICU and drew on my critical care experience for Harry's "dopey-ness," although he's funnier than most. Please drop me a line if you're enjoying these!


	9. Two: Neville and Hannah

**Two**

_December 31, 2001 11:02 p.m._

I hadn't seen Neville Longbottom in over two years, and if he hadn't come in with a group of friends from school (Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil), I'm not sure I would have recognized him. Certainly not from across the crowded pub on the biggest drinking night of the year.

″Hannah!″

I was greeted with enthusiasm by my former classmates and indulged in a few moments of catching up. I had not been at The Three Broomsticks for long, maybe six months, but it was enjoyable work. Rosmerta was a good boss, the pub was rarely slammed except a handful of times a year on Hogwarts weekends or holidays, and I seemed to have a knack for hospitality. I would see more people I knew if I could get on at The Leaky Cauldron in London, but for now, this suited me just fine. I took their orders and returned to the table with drinks and two baskets of chips.

″On the house,″ I said, smiling as I set them down. These five had saved my life more than once during seventh year. It seemed a paltry offering.

Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati chorused their thanks and reached for the food, but Neville touched my arm. Just a light touch, two seconds at most, but he took the time to look me in the eye and thank me personally. No one does that in the restaurant business; despite my name tag, I never get thanked by name.

″Thanks, Hannah. Sit down and have a drink with us.″

Neville is one of those rare wizards who is good- looking and doesn't know it. Of average height, with dark blond hair and sky- blue eyes, three years of working in the Auror Department had been kind to him. He had changed during our seventh year, not only coming into his own in personality and leadership, but also in looks (Susan Bones, Lavender, Parvati, her sister Padma, and I had had more than one conversation that year about Neville's transformation). He looked different, though. That year Neville had been stressed, tense, bruised, and almost thin with the pressures of war. Now he was relaxed, fit, and— well, hot.

Speaking of which, it was oppressively hot in here. Always rosy-cheeked at the best of times, I probably resembled a sweaty pig. Lovely.

″Hannah?″

Oh, no, I had been so focused on my memories of the boy Neville that I ignored the man in front of me. I felt myself blushing further, my cheeks prickling with heat.

I held up the now- empty tray. ″A witch's work never ends,″ I said lightly.

″It must end sometime. When do you get off?″

Lavender and Parvati were watching us with intense interest, while Dean and Seamus were absorbed in a conversation about Quidditch (what else?).

″Er, we close at two.″

Neville leaned back and smiled. ″I'll wait.″


	10. One: Rose and Scorpius

A/N: I had to edit this chapter several times to meet the competition limit of 1000 words, but now that judging is over, I decided to post the full version. Enjoy!

* * *

**One**

_December 31, 2022 9:31 p.m._

Scorpius Malfoy looked up into the stern visage of Ron Weasley. Why did he have to be so tall? It made Scorpius feel like a kid.

″You're late.″

″Honestly, Ron. By one minute. His watch probably isn't synchronized with yours, that's all.″ The warm brown eyes of Rose's mum peered under her husband's arm, which was blocking the doorway. ″Hello, Scorpius.″

″Good evening, Mrs. Weasley.″

″Please, come in.″ Even Mr. Weasley noticed the steel in her tone, for he dropped his arm and stepped back.

″Hi, Scor,″ Hugo said. The two boys exchanged a ritual handshake.

″Where's Rose?″

Hugo rolled his eyes. ″The same place she's been since dinner— the bathroom.″ He turned and yelled up the stairs. ″Oi, Rose, lover-boy is here!″

Scorpius gave him a shove.

″Scorpius!″ Rose ran right up to him and stopped.

Scorpius laced his fingers with hers but didn't say anything. Not out loud, but he hoped his eyes were as expressive as hers. Two weeks— fourteen whole days— had passed since they had said goodbye on the Hogwarts Express, and while they owled or Flooed every day since then, it wasn't the same. He was dying to kiss her, but her family was here; he could feel her dad glowering behind him. Rose smiled as if she knew exactly what Scorpius was thinking, and just when he decided to kiss her anyway, she dropped his hands.

Scorpius groaned under his breath. Mr. Weasley's idea of a New Year's Eve date for his daughter was allowing her to invite a guest to the family party. Desperate to see Rose, and falsely encouraged by Mr. Weasley's smile during the conversation on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Scorpius had leapt at the chance. It was only later that he found out he would be meeting her entire family for the first time.

And Rose's family was not your average collection of wizards. Two curse breakers, two Triwizard champions, a dragon keeper, and four— four!— Aurors (bloody Gryffindors). Not to mention her godfather was Harry Potter. Yes, _him_. Scorpius had been welcomed in the Potters' home several times, but he had a feeling meeting your friend's dad and meeting your girlfriend's godfather were two different experiences. And her grandmother, whom Rose adored, had killed Great Aunt Bellatrix. The crazy Death Eater both Dad and Grandfather were afraid of. That Bellatrix.

Scorpius was nauseous, and he still had to Floo.

He was dusting himself off when he was assaulted by a plump older witch smelling faintly of vanilla. She held him at arms' length, beaming.

″Scorpius, we're so glad to meet you. I saved you some chocolate gateau. Rose says it's your favorite.″

″I— yes, ma'am.″

She reversed a Disillusionment charm and handed him what looked like half the pudding, complete with a fork. With Rose pulling his hand and Molly Weasley pushing his back, Scorpius entered a sitting room bursting with attackers. Er, Weasleys.

The room quieted.

″Everyone, this is Scorpius. Scorpius, this is everyone.″

″Rose, Scorpius will think you haven't any manners.″

″He already knows that, don't you, Scor?″ Rose's eyes sparkled.

The memory of their last ten minutes on the train came rushing back. Merlin, he wanted to kiss her— but he also wanted to live. Maybe Rose was the one he should watch out for.

But she obeyed her mum, walking him round the room and introducing him to her aunts and uncles one by one. He wished Mrs. Weasley hadn't given him the gateau; his possession of it only seemed to increase his unpopularity.

Bill wasn't bad, and Percy was just as stuck- up as Dad had said, but Rose's cousins were friendly. Rose left him standing with Mr. Potter, un-jinxed so far. Scorpius gulped.

″Eat up,″ Potter said, indicating the untouched pudding. ″Molly is an excellent cook.″

Scorpius started breathing again, and they were silent for a few moments except for the scraping of metal against china. Potter was watching his wife, and Scorpius remembered she was a Weasley. Potter must have gone through this awful family intimidation too.

″Their sparks are worse than their spells. Be good to Rose, and they'll leave you alone.″

″Yes, sir.″ Al had said the same thing.

″But, Scorpius? If you so much as glance at the stairs, or outside, or a cupboard, or any other private space, it will be your last voluntary move for a very long time. Do we understand each other?″

Scorpius didn't need a mirror to know he was even paler than usual. ″Yes, sir.″

()()()()

Scorpius sipped his Firewhisky (George had shoved it in Scorpius's hand shortly after his conversation with Potter, saying he looked like he could use a drink) and watched Rose. He was supposed to be watching the chess match, but Rose was flirting with him. Sitting with her female cousins, she was giving him sidelong looks, flipping her gorgeous curls behind her back, toying with the stem of her wineglass. It was fifth year all over again, the glances and giggles and girlishness, only better. Without the suspense of doubt and with the memory of experience, knowing Rose was flirting was infinitely better than wondering.

″One minute! Places, everyone,″ George called. There was a general scramble as couples moved to pair up, and George and Charlie circled with refills.

Rose came to Scorpius with a know-it-all smile. He was kissing her at midnight, family be damned. They locked eyes.

″Ten, nine, eight . . . three, two. . . .″

But Rose didn't wait for midnight. On the count of ″one,″ she hooked an arm behind Scorpius's neck, pressed her body into his, and kissed him.

Not a friendly kiss, either. Or a brief ″it's midnight″ kiss. No, Rose was kissing him more intimately than she had ever done in public, and Scorpius threaded one hand in her curls and wrapped the other one around her, pulling her closer still. She tasted of peppermint underneath the wine. He was dimly aware of glass breaking, and the clock chiming, and James's and Al's catcalls, but by the time she softened the kiss and released his mouth, Scorpius was blissfully oblivious to anything but Rose. Dazed, he couldn't help his longing look towards the front door.

But Potter was smiling. ″Like mother, like daughter, eh, Hermione?″

″Rose is a smart girl. She knows what she wants.″

″And how to get it.″

″Shut up, Al.″ Lily threw a noisemaker at her brother. She had her mother's aim, and it hit him square in the forehead.

″Aunt Hermione, you need to add another couple to the snog list,″ Victoire said.

″It is not called a snog list,″ Mrs. Weasley said irritably. ″Assuming that it even exists, which it doesn't.″

″What's—″

″Don't ask,″ Rose said. ″One more?″

* * *

a/n: Another little reference to ″The Weasley Christmas Song List″ (I know, I know, I'm shameless). I responded to a reviewer, misspelled ″song″ as ″snog,″ and _voila!_ I've been dying to use it ever since :D

To clarify: Two curse breakers (Bill and Victoire), two Triwizard champions (Fleur and Harry), a dragon keeper (Charlie), and four Aurors (Ron, Harry, Teddy, and James). This is set during Rose and Scorpius's seventh year at Hogwarts, so they're both of age.


	11. Happy New Year: Luna and Rolf

**Happy New Year**

_December 31, 2019 11:55 p.m._

I accepted a glass of champagne from Charlie and leaned my head on Harry's shoulder. I'd already had two glasses of wine and was deliciously relaxed. My whole family, including some friends who were as close as, was scattered round— or, more accurately, crammed into— the Burrow's sitting room. Harry was stroking my hair as he chatted with Ron. I shifted, wiggling one hand between the sofa and Harry's back, sliding it under the waistband of his trousers and letting it rest there. He looked at me, I smiled at him, and the plans were made.

Luna and Rolf were here, engaged in an animated discussion with Dad. I loved to watch the two of them together. Luna and Rolf, I mean. He was good for her. Steady, organized, completely enamored with her, Rolf had given Luna confidence and security. Not that she had been shy and insecure— Luna had a delightful disregard for the opinions of others— but she had once confided in me she thought she would always be alone; that no wizard could genuinely love her without wanting to change her. But Rolf did, and the results were amazing. They married four years ago, on Luna's thirty- fifth birthday, but had no children. I wondered, for the hundredth time, whether that was by choice or chance. Luna was fantastic with kids. Whimsical and imaginative, she was everyone's favorite playmate, and I could not have been more pleased when she agreed to be Lily's godmother.

Charlie was still passing out drinks, and from the sound of things, he had been imbibing as he went. Even as a kid, New Year's was Charlie's favorite holiday, but he'd had some disappointing New Years in adulthood. There had been over a decade when at least one Weasley witch was either pregnant or nursing, and while he certainly never pressured us, his excitement that first year we were all ″eligible″ knew no bounds.

Dad and Rolf accepted drinks, but Luna declined. I removed my hand from Harry's bum and sat up straight.

Charlie crossed his arms. ″Luna, no one has refused to have a drink with me on New Year's since Roxie stopped nursing." George and Angelina's daughter Roxanne was the youngest grandchild. ″None of the witches in this room are pregnant or nursing, and everyone is going to have a drink with me.″

Luna smiled her dreamy smile and I knew.

″Not none of them,″ she said.

″Luna?″ Rolf's voice was hoarse. He looked like he'd just seen a real, live Crumple- Horned Snorkack.

″Darling?″ Luna's brow furrowed. ″Have you been under the mistletoe again? I told you, it's full of Nargles.″

″Luna? Are you— are you really?″

″Happy New Year, Rolf.″

* * *

a/n: Hurray! This collection has been both an absolute joy to write and a true challenge. Eight of these pairings I'd never written before, not to mention that it's not easy to think of eleven different ways to spend New Year's Eve! Many, many thanks to Addicted-To-Sugar-Quills for hosting a wonderful competition.

Regarding the timeline discrepancy between this chapter and "Six": I had to give Lorcan a birthday close to Lucy's to pair them for "Six," but since Jo said Luna got married and had children later in life, I bumped back the announcement of her pregnancy.

Finally, I want to let you all know that I'm hosting a **Missing Moments Lottery Challenge,** and I hope you'll participate! There are lots of creative writers on this site, and I'm looking forward to seeing what you can come up with. Just remove the spaces: http:/ forum. fanfiction. net/ topic/ 44309/ 55920858/ 1/


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